


Hera and the Governor

by SousukeBeru



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: F/M, Femdom, Foot Fetish, Masturbation, Small Penis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:15:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28379091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SousukeBeru/pseuds/SousukeBeru
Summary: Hera Syndulla is captured by the Empire, and must seduce an Imperial Governor to escape.  Luckily, the Governor has some strange fetishes, and if Hera can learn to manipulate them, he will be putty in her hands...
Relationships: Hera Syndulla & Original Character(s)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 11





	1. Captured

**Author's Note:**

> This part simply covers the story set-up. The real foot fetish femdom fun begins next chapter!

Hera Syndulla could not believe her rotten luck. She had been on assignment for the Rebel Alliance in the Thand Sector, on a routine mission away from the rest of her team, and everything had been going smoothly. She had arrived on Tendrius Prime, slipped into the capital using a fake ID (her cover name being ‘Elema’), made contact with their double-agent in the local Imperial garrison, and was back to the starport in just a few hours. Textbook. Flawless.

And that was when the Imperials at the starport recognised someone. Not her, thankfully, but a recently-arrived starship with a crew they managed to identify as wanted pirates. Hera had found herself in the crossfire of the Empire and the buccaneers, and despite a valiant effort to escape, had been shot and stunned by one of the white-armoured Stormtroopers sent to bring the situation under control.

Captured along with the pirates, Hera found herself in an interrogation. Her fake ID held up fine, and the Imperials failed to recognise her as a wanted Rebel terrorist. However, as a Twi’lek in the wrong place at the wrong time, the anti-alien Imperial racists were convinced that she was with the pirates. She just about managed to persuade them otherwise, when the local garrison Commander heard about her situation. It seemed that he had been ordered to send some slaves to a high-ranking Imperial, and was not about to let a Twi’lek as beautiful as Hera slip through his fingers.

So instead of returning to the Rebel base on Atollon, Hera now found herself among a half-dozen other Twi’lek slaves bound for Kalinda, a lightly populated planet in the Mid Rim. Like them, she had been fitted with a slave collar, a bland ring about her neck that was more than a symbol. Imperials with the correct hand device could use the collar to inflict pain upon the slaves, enough to stun or even kill. Part torture device, part mortal threat, the collar was an unwelcome symbol of just how much of a mess Hera was in.

They had been travelling for hours when Hera, a skilled pilot, could feel the ship drop out of hyperspace, even though the room that held the slaves lacked windows. Glancing around, her fellow Twi’leks did not react, either not noticing or not caring that they had arrived. Like Hera, they were lithe and beautiful women, smooth of skin and possessed of the sensitive ‘head tails’ (known as lekku) that defined their race. Only one of the others possessed the pale jade skin of Hera, the others being red, blue, orange, and a violet-pink.

Her people were stunning, thought Hera, which was why they were in such demand as slaves.

The descent to the planet was smooth, as was the landing, and Hera had to give credit to the Empire for training its pilots well. Just a few minutes later, the rear doors of the shuttle opened, spreading bright daylight upon the Twi’lek slaves. Hera winced as her eyes adjusted, but she could hear the hum of hydraulics as the landing ramp extended from the shuttle to the ground. A moment later, two Imperial Stormtroopers walked up it and into the shuttle, barking commands for the slaves to stand and follow.

Hera resisted the urge to fight back, and instead imitated the meek and silent acquiescence of her fellows. She knew she had to play this cool while she looked for a chance to escape.

Her green eyes were still adjusting, but as they emerged from the shadow of the shuttle she took in her surroundings. It was stunning. Rising before her was a ten-storey castle, a veritable palace of hanging gardens and weapons emplacements. The entire structure had been built into a waterfall, with water cascading loudly down either side. The landing pad was actually an artificial island in the lake at the bottom of the falls, connected by bridge to the base of the castle nearby. The whole thing was grandiose and indulgent, the perfect symbol of Imperial arrogance.

Hera vowed to leave as soon as possible.

\-----

The Twi’leks were taken to the slaves’ quarters, a barracks-like set of rooms designed to hold the palace’s compliment of servants. An Imperial Lieutenant named Crispin was responsible for the slaves, and he briefed them in sharp and harsh tones as they were assigned their sleeping bunks. They were now part of a staff of twenty, all Twi’lek slave women, who were to cook and clean for – as Crispin put it - their ‘human superiors’.

Hera felt her anger grow during the man’s insufferable presentation, but again fought to control herself. Maintaining the demeanour of a broken slave was not going to be easy, she realised.

They were ordered to wash and clean up after their trip, an act that involved a communal shower. For a few moments, Hera was afraid that Crispin would follow the Twi’leks into the bathroom and watch them get naked, but no, the Lieutenant remained outside. That was good, but still, Hera worried about the potential for sexual exploitation. She had heard of the unsavoury appetites that some humans had regarding her species.

Clean, and with a towel wrapped securely around her, Hera followed the other Twi’leks out of the shower and back to their dorm. They found that the worn clothes they had arrived in were now missing, and instead they each had new clothes laid out on their bunks waiting for them. Hera scowled to notice that the attire would have received a Hutt’s seal of approval. It was little more than a very thin gold bikini top and matching thong, plus some golden slippers. She toyed with the idea of converting her bed sheets into something less revealing to wear, but thought better of it. Looking around, her fellows were already getting dressed in their new ‘uniforms’ and she reluctantly followed suit.

Hera stared at herself in a mirror. Her pert breasts were barely contained in the top, with small triangles of fabric that barely covered her dark green areola. And the bottoms were worse. The thong barely managed to cover her front, and at the back was so thin as to vanish into her ass crack. From behind she might as well have been naked. Even for Imperials, this was still a new level of disgusting.

Crispin returned a few moments later, once they were all ‘dressed.’ His arrival was suspiciously well-timed, and Hera suspected that there were hidden cameras to monitor the slaves. Damned Imperials. It sickened her to think of them watching her getting dressed.

“I must say,” said Crispin in his high-pitched, sharp voice, “you sub-human slaves certainly look - and smell - better than you did before!” His weasel-face contorted into a smirk as he spoke, as if amused by his own words. “Now, follow me! Before you begin your duties, the Governor wants to inspect you!”

Hera followed the others from the dorms, and into the castle proper. They passed Stormtroopers and officers, bureaucrats and droids. Some of the Imperials, both male and female, openly leered at the Twi’leks, and Hera tried not to let her discomfort or embarrassment show, resisting the urge to cover her revealing cleavage and ass with her hands. Her fellow slaves made no effort to hide their bodies as they walked, but this was not due to any sense of body-confidence or strength. They let others stare because all resistance and pride had been beaten out of them long ago.

Another reason Hera despised the Empire.

They came at last to a large room, a meeting hall of some sort, with a stage and walls covered in banners bearing the Imperial crest. Crispin had them line up before the stage, and after a few minutes waiting, the Governor of Kalinda entered, flanked by two Stormtroopers.

Hera regarded the man with her emerald eyes, sizing him up. He seemed somewhat young for the ruler of an Imperial planet, maybe a decade or so older than her. Of average height and attractiveness, his only defining features were his thinning hair and dark-ginger goatee beard. However, Hera could see the cunning and calculating nature in his dark brown eyes, as he swept his gaze over the six Twi’leks arranged before him.

“I am Governor Lareth Belg,” he said in a Core World’s accent. “You are now my property. Whoever you were before now, is gone. This is your life now. Serve me well and you will be rewarded. Displease me, and you will be replaced,” he said darkly, and Hera could hear the threat in the word ‘replaced.’ “Some of you may be wondering why your attire is so revealing,” he said with a smile. “You will find that your ability to steal items, especially weapons, are greatly hindered with no clothing to conceal them in. A revealed slave has nothing to hide from her masters.”

Hera frowned. As far as excuses to ogle the slaves went, that was one of the better ones she had heard.

“As we dictate your appearance,” the Governor went on, “so too shall we dictate your mind. You will read only what we permit, speak only when we permit. In time, you will think only as we permit. Both physically and mentally you are mine to mould as I wish. You will all become model slaves.” Belg took a breath, a pause before he wrapped up. “Lieutenant Crispin will assign you to your roles. I suggest you learn them quickly and learn them well. You will find neither he nor I have a patience for failure. Now, be about your duties. And oh, one last thing. Welcome to Kalinda.”

With that, the Governor turned and departed, escorted by his two bodyguards. Hera watched him go, and vowed that before she escaped this place, Belg would suffer for the way he treated her people.

\-----

Hera knew she had to be patient, had to wait for her chance. It may take days or weeks, but she knew that Imperial arrogance would lead to her captors slipping up eventually, and then she would be free. In the meantime, she had to play the role of a dutiful slave so as to avoid attention, and make careful note of everything she saw and heard.

Her first opportunity to gather intelligence came swiftly. On the second day, she was out on one of the balconies, watering the exotic flowers that grew there and spilled down the side of the palace walls. She and another slave, a blue-skinned Twi’lek named Yadira, worked carefully, for each flower had its own exacting requirements for water and soil.

“A little more on that one,” directed Yadira, who had been a slave at the castle for over two years. “Good. Now, apply about half that much water to this bed over here.”

Hera complied. She knew nothing about gardening, and was keen to get it right. She tipped the watering can carefully, applying the liquid to a row of bright purple flowers the size of her head. A little more… a little more… too much! Suddenly worried, she pulled back suddenly, and water spilled over her legs and slippers, but at least the plants were protected from over-watering.

“Good save,” said the other Twi’lek with approval.

“Thanks,” said Hera.

“You two done?” demanded Lieutenant Crispin as he came into view, emerging from inside the castle. When the two Twi’leks nodded, he went on. “Good. You, continue on to the next balcony,” he said, gesturing to Yadira. “You, grab some cleaning materials and head to the Governor’s office.”

Hera realised that he was gesturing to her, and she had to supress a grin of triumph. The Governor’s office? If there was information that could assist in her escape, she realised, it was there.

\-----

Hera stood before the door to the Governor’s office, various cleaning implements in her hands. The two Stormtrooper guards did not react to her approach, and she was all set just to walk right in when one stopped her.

“Halt!” the white-armoured soldier snapped, and the Twi’lek came to an abrupt halt. “Your shoes,” he said, gesturing to her slippers.

Hera glanced down, noticing that they were still wet from the incident with the watering can.

“Do not trapse water into the Governor’s office,” said the Stormtrooper firmly, and even though his voice was muffled by coming through a helmet, Hera could hear from his tone that this was something that had happened before, and presumably did not end well.

Hera nodded, slipping her feet out of the shoes and leaving them behind. Barefoot, she proceeded through the door and into the spacious office beyond.

The room was, predictably, the top floor of the castle. Only this floor extended above the cliff that the castle was built into, and the wide windows at the front and sides of the room offered a spectacular view of the waterfalls just below them, and the gorgeous green valley that stretched out before them. That valley was dotted with clumps of forest and small mansion estates for high-ranking Imperials, and was, she had to admit, rather stunning.

Hera turned her gaze from the view and instead looked at the massive table that sat before it. It was a wide desk of black steel and glass, and sat at it, studying a small datapad, was Governor Lareth Belg.

“Stop staring and get on with it,” he said, barely taking his eyes from whatever report he was reading.

“Yes, sir,” said Hera aloud, ensuring that her voice remained meek and soft. She then did her best to ignore the arrogant human and get on with cleaning. The Twi’lek worked on the windows, but only gave the job the bare minimum of her attention. Instead, she was taking in the details of the room. There seemed to be no cameras, but she had noticed two outside. She also made a note of the Governor’s desk, and the computer terminal there-on. Quietly she weighed up her odds of hacking it. Not good, but perhaps the best chance to find a way off-world.

Just then, she noticed that Governor Belg was staring at her. She panicked for a moment, cursing herself for being so obvious as she studied his work place, but the human quickly averted his eyes! Hera blinked, confused, as the Imperial went back to studying his datapad, avoiding looking at her as if… as if embarrassed? What?

Carefully, Hera went back to cleaning, ceasing her reconnaissance for now and returning to her act of being a dedicated slave. She was working on the windows on the left first. They were quite tall, but the Twi’lek found that if she climbed up on the ledge, she could reach the top of the glass without a problem.

She was working her way along, moving closer to where the Governor was seated, and happened to catch a glimpse of his refection in the windowpane. Belg was staring at her while her back was turned. Typical, she mused. No doubt the Imperial was staring at her shapely ass in her oh-so-revealing thong. Disgusting.

No, she realised, correcting herself. That was not it. His eyes were low, far too low for her ass. What was he staring at…?

With increasing confusion, Hera looked down and remembered that she had removed her slippers at the door. Belg was staring at her bare feet! Risking it, she glanced back over her shoulder, and as before, he quickly turned away. This forty-year-old man was acting like a guilty teenager who had been caught leering at a female classmate!

“Governor?” she dared to ask, “is everything okay?”

“I’m fine!” said the man, rising quickly from his desk. “Carry on here, slave! I have… things… to do!” and with that, he hurried from the room.

Hera watched him go, astounded by his behaviour. “Okay…” she said aloud, looking around the now-empty office. She had not expected that the most powerful person on the planet, who calmly ordered slaves to work near-naked, would get so flustered by staring at feet, but once again the Empire had managed to surprise her.

Still, as she stared at the desk and computer terminal there-on, she marvelled at her current situation. It could not be this easy, she thought. Could it?

Hera walked to the computer, and after a double check glance at the door, tried to access it. Sure enough, the security on the Governor’s database was tight. It would take her a few hours at least to get inside, and then longer to locate anything pertinent to her escape. This was not the time, mused Hera, but if she could find a way in at night when Belg was certain to be asleep…

Making plans for later, Hera restored the computer to the same menu screen it had been on when she had entered, then stepped away from it. For now, she decided to maintain her slave act and resume work on the windows. Just as the Twi’lek left the desk, however, her eyes fell on the datapad that Belg was reading when she came in.

She hesitated, wary of the Governor coming back at any moment, but she was too much of a Rebel not to read sensitive Imperial data when the opportunity presented itself. Quickly she scooped the pad up and scrolled through the report.

Except it was not an Imperial report. Far from it.

Hera’s emeralf eyes widened in surprise, as the datapad was revealed to be full of very sexually explicit Zeltron erotica! “No way,” she breathed, flicking through it. Recklessly, she spent several minutes perusing the titles, and even glancing through some of the texts. The same terms came up again and again in the stories. Feet, masturbation, humiliation, and the constant trope of a strong man seduced, dominated, and brought low by a woman.

A chance glance at the chrono on the wall revealed that she had already spent too much time reading the pad, and she quickly reset it to the story it was on and placed it back on the desk. Moving swiftly, Hera hurriedly finished the windows, and then gave the rest of the room a quick clean. The place was already near-spotless, and her rushed job made little difference.

Finally, mind racing with the implications of what she had read, Hera left the office. Outside, one of the two Stormtrooper guards turned to look at her. “You took your time,” he said bluntly.

“This was my first time in the Governor’s office,” said the Twi’lek at once, managing to sound meek and worried. “I wanted to do a good job for my master.”

The Stormtrooper’s helmet bobbed slightly in a nod of acknowledgement. “Report to Lieutenant Crispin for your next assignment,” said the trooper, “I believe he’s on the third floor.”

“Yes, sir,” she said.

“Oh, and the Governor took your slippers,” added the trooper. “He said they were untidy were they were. Request a new pair from the Lieutenant.”

“Yes, sir,” said Hera again, and she began walking off.

Belg took her footwear? Interesting…


	2. Mistress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A slave of Governor Lareth Belg, Hera Syndulla has discovered his foot fetish weakness. In order to manipulate the Imperial, Hera will become the Mistress of the man's fantasies!

That night, Hera lay in her bunk, pretty much the only Twi’lek in the slave dorm still awake. True to their boasts during orientation, the Imperials did indeed dictate what the slaves could read. The datapads they had been given for their (limited) relaxation time were denied news feeds and current events. However, their access to Kalinda’s planetary net did allow them to download articles on matters deemed useful to slaves. For example, botany, cuisine, dancing.

And porn.

Hera was unsurprised that a castle full of humans had allowed their Twi’lek slaves access to erotic materials. Fortunately, this extended to the sort of female-dominated literature that Governor Belg seemed to favour. Hera stayed up for a couple of hours, reading intently, and began to wonder.

According to slaves that had been here longer, such as Yadira, the Governor had a strict ‘look but don’t touch’ policy for the slaves. Yes, they were dressed provocatively, but Belg apparently took a dim view of his people doing more than stare at the scantily-clad Twi’lek staff. When questioned, the Governor gave typically Imperial answers such as non-humans being ‘unclean’ and ‘relations of any sort with their kind were corrupting.’

The more Hera read of Belg’s chosen form of erotica, however, the more she began to wonder. The men in these stories were respectful of women, obedient, even worshipful. Could that be what the Governor was secretly like? After all, if he was really as racist towards Twi’leks as he acted, why not just have droids serve in his castle? Why parade such temptation for his people? Was the objectification of subservient female slaves just an image thing? Something Belg was simply expected to do as an Imperial Governor?

Hera really had little to go on, but a feeling in her gut told her that she was on the right track. Turning off the datapad, she lay back in bed. Pondering the content of the stories, she began to put together a plan…

\-----

Two days of mind-numbing chores passed before Hera heard the words she had been waiting for.

“Slave!” snapped Lieutenant Crispin. “Report to the kitchen. Governor Belg wants his dinner brought to him in his office!”

“Yes, Sir,” said Hera, and it was a challenge to keep her voice neutral. Eagerly, she headed downstairs and collected a tray of food. Despite the Governor’s wealth, it was a rather mundane meal of nerf-burgers and fries. She had no time to ponder the human’s taste in food, and instead hurried to the turbolift up to the tenth floor.

Arriving at the lobby outside the Governor’s office, the Stormtrooper guards waved her through without comment. The large doors with the Imperial seal upon it opened before her, and Hera stepped inside.

The sky outside the expansive windows was darkening, and Belg had only a small glow-lamp upon his desk. The Governor was working at his computer, and distractedly said, “just leave the food and then you may… go…” he said, trailing off as he noticed that it was Hera holding his dinner tray.

The Twi’lek stared at him, and noticed a strange look on the man’s face. Was it… guilt? Yes, it was. Perhaps she was right about her suspicions. There was only one way to find out. Crossing to the large desk, she put the serving tray and food down upon it. Then she stood standing there, staring pointedly at the Governor.

Belg noticed her look. “Yes?” he asked, almost nervously. “Is there something else?”

“I wanted to apologise, sir,” said Hera, keeping her voice subservient for now. “I was told that you personally had to remove my slippers. I apologise for leaving them outside your office.”

The human gulped. “Uh… yes… um… don’t worry. You’re new here, you couldn’t have known.”

“All the same, sir, I am sorry,” she said. “May I ask when I will get them back?”

“Back?” he echoed, the guilty look on his face intensifying.

“Yes, sir,” pressed Hera gently. “They fit much better than the ones I am wearing now. I would greatly appreciate if I could get the old ones back.”

“I’m… uh… not sure where I put them,” said Belg, and Hera knew it at once for the lie it was.

“Well, maybe you can have a look?” she said innocently. “Not now, of course, but for when I am next called here. I could swap them for the ones I’m wearing now.”

“And… and those ones?” asked the Governor, voice cracking.

“I won’t need these,” replied the Twi’lek, looking down at her current footwear. “I’ve been doing a lot of hard work in them, staining them with the sweat of my bare feet. I’d be glad to be rid of them.”

Belg gulped. “I… I’ll see what I can do…” he vowed.

\-----

That evening, Hera thought back on the day, and how well it had gone. She was still stunned by how out of sorts the Governor was, and how easy he was to manipulate with matters regarding her feet and shoes. Belg’s choice in erotic literature was not, she now knew, some passing whim, but a deep-seated fetish that the powerful Imperial was only barely keeping in check. If she could just push him a little more, Hera mused, the possibilities would be endless.

It was then little surprise to her when, the following afternoon, Lieutenant Crispin selected her to be the Twi’lek to go and clean the Governor’s office. In fact, the arrogant young officer reported that Belg had asked for Hera personally. Or rather, he had asked for the one with pale jade skin who had served him before, and Crispin had dutifully supplied Hera’s cover name of Elema.

Trying to keep the smile from her face, Hera grabbed her cleaning implements and proceeded up to the office. Once again, the Governor was sat behind his desk, wrapped up in the endless bureaucracy that running a planet entailed. When he saw Hera enter, however, his eyes were filled with a kind of excitement. “Ah, there you are!” he said at once as the door closed behind her.

Hera bowed. “As you requested, sir.”

“I won’t keep you from your duties,” said Belg, “but I have good news. I found your slippers,” he said, gesturing to where they sat on a chair across the desk from him. “I… uh… had them cleaned,” he added.

I bet you did, mused Hera. Instead of the quip, however, she walked over to the desk and eagerly grabbed up the slippers. “Mind if I change into them now?” she asked.

“O-of course,” said the Governor, his eyes widening.

Hera dropped into the chair, and noticed Belg lean forward slightly in his seat, trying to ensure that his desk was not going to obstruct a view of her bare feet. Hera, knowing that to feed his addiction was the key to manipulating the man, made sure that he saw. She lifted her right foot up rather than bend down to it. Slipping off her current footwear, she let her bare foot and toes be free for a few moments. She wiggled her toes, as if stretching them, and glanced up at the human opposite.

Belg was staring, eyes wide, the Twi’lek’s toes the centre of his world.

The Rebel smiled to herself, and after a few moments, put on the old and recently-cleaned slipper. She then repeated the theatrics with her other foot, again ‘stretching’ it for a solid minute or two, permitting the Imperial Governor the longest view she could without arousing his suspicions.

Finally, the old and ‘better fitting’ footwear on, Hera rose. “Thank you so much, sir,” she beamed, walking back and forth. “They fit so much better than those smelly other ones.”

“I’m… I’m glad,” Belg stammered. “And… and what about those other ones?” he asked, noting them discarded on the floor.

Hera shrugged nonchalantly. “I don’t need them,” she said. “Shall I throw them in the trash?”

“No!” said the Governor, clearly more harshly than he intended. “I mean, don’t bother yourself, slave. Just leave them there and get cleaning. I’ll dispose of them.”

“Yes, sir,” said Hera. Then, locking her bright emerald eyes on him, she met his gaze. “Feel free to do with them as you wish,” she said carefully. “Anything… you… wish.”

“I don’t…” stammered Belg, “I don’t catch your meaning.”

Hera, dropping both the submissive slave routine and the innocent routine, spoke firmly and clearly, calling on her authority as a leader in the Rebel Alliance. “I just mean,” she said, still locking eyes with him, “that whatever you do, you have my permission. My… approval.”

The Governor nodded, and she could see his mind racing. She knew what he had done with her previous slippers (the ones she now wore) and she knew exactly what he would do with the new ones. Only now he had her tacit permission.

Or did he? No doubt Belg’s mind would be racing, hoping that she meant what he thought she meant, but unwilling to say it out loud to clarify. Hera found herself greatly amused to imagine the man’s chaotic thoughts and circular logic.

“I will get on with cleaning now,” said Hera, the authority gone, and back to being the obedient slave.

“Yes,” said the Governor dumbly, and remained oddly quiet while she worked.

\-----

The next day, Governor Lareth Belg sat in his office. He had just finished a tiresome meeting with a trio of high-ranking officers, an Army Colonel and two Naval Captains, each of whom had different ideas about how best to secure Imperial control of Kalinda. Having dismissed the men, he found he needed a break.

Tapping the com panel on his desk, he said, “kitchen! This is the Governor. Have someone send up some lunch for me.” He paused, and found the image of that gorgeous green Twi’lek in his thoughts. Lareth had been thinking of her a lot, especially last night when he had…

“Have Elema bring the food up,” he said at last, and then turned the com off. Wait, was that a good idea? Showing favour to a slave was a sign of weakness. Would his underlings take notice? What would they think? And would Elema see through him and realise how much he had been thinking about her and those amazing feet of hers?

His mind racing, Lareth found himself oddly apprehensive as the time passed. When the door opened and the scantily-clad Twi’lek slave entered, the Governor had to physically compose himself.

Holding a tray of sandwiches, she entered his office and bowed. “Good afternoon, Sir,” she said.

“Good afternoon, Elema,” said Belg, trying to keep his nerves under control. Oh no, he thought, why did he call her by name? She was a slave, nothing more!

If the Twi’lek had noticed the familiarity she did not show it. Instead, she crossed to the desk and placed the plate full of food upon it. Only then did she look at him and say, “thank you again for the slippers, Sir.”

“You’re… uh… you’re welcome,” said the Governor, trying not to let his guilt show. Just leave, he wished at her silently, and do not speak anymore about your feet and shoes!

Elema did not budge. “Did you know,” she said suddenly, “that we slaves respect the Empire?”

Belg frowned, surprised by her unexpected statement. “You do?”

“Indeed,” said the Twi’lek. “You humans are right to rule us as you do. Not just because you are stronger, but because you are more evolved. The people of the Empire, yourself included, have a sense of dignity and honour that aliens like myself just do not possess.”

The Lareth nodded, glad that at least one of the citadel’s slaves understood the natural order of things. “Well, yes,” he said. “The Emperor’s New Order is based on justice and truth. I’m glad you can see that.”

“We do,” said Elema, and now she began slowly moving around the desk, coming around to Belg’s side. He watched her, nervously, as she drew closer. “I know that, as an Imperial, you must be an honest man, Sir,” she went on. “A pillar of truth in a galaxy of lies.”

“I… strive to be…” said Lareth, confused as to where this was going.

The Twi’lek now stood by his side, looking down at the seated human. Their eyes met, and he found himself staring into her bright emerald eyes. “So,” she went on, “when I ask, ‘what did you do with my shoes last night?’, I know I’ll get a straight and honest answer.”

The Governor’s eyes went wide, filling with horror. “Uh… well… that’s not the sort of thing that…” he began.

Hera held up a finger to silence him, and Lareth felt compelled to comply, shutting up at once. “Honesty, Sir,” she repeated. “Just speak truthfully. I promise I won’t get upset. I did give you permission to do anything you wish.”

“I… I…” he said, stammering as his mind raced. He tried to look away, but her intense eyes held his gaze.

“Yes?” Elema pressed, staring him down, willing him to comply.

“I held one of your slippers to my nose with one hand…” said Lareth, trembling, surprised at himself for saying the words aloud. “And I… I…” he hesitated, scared to admit it, but at last his strange desire to accommodate her and be honest won through. “I… masturbated with the other hand…” he confessed at last.

The Twi’lek smiled triumphantly. “Very good, Governor. See how easy that was?”

“You… you aren’t upset?” he asked, relief and amazement warring across his face.

“Why would I be upset? I gave you permission, didn’t I?” And with that, she leaned in close. Again, keeping eye contact, she stared Lareth down. “Besides… I love it when men jerk for me!” she whispered seductively.

Lareth could not believe that this insanely gorgeous alien was saying these things. “You… you do?” he asked.

“Oh yes,” she said, sliding her shapely ass back onto his desk and sitting there. “That’s why I’m not angry about the previous time you took my shoes and masturbated for them,” she said, and the guilty look returned to his face. “It’s okay,” she soothed, “I don’t care. It makes me feel… powerful!” explained Elema, putting emphasis on the word. As she said that, the Governor shuddered, feeling hot and excited by her words. “And you know what else makes me feel powerful?” she asked with narrowed eyes.

“What?” the Governor asked, voice a needy whisper.

“To see men ground beneath my feet!” answered the Twi’lek, and only then did the Imperial realise why she was sitting on his desk. Elema had slipped out of her shoes, and now thrust her bare feet straight in his face!

The Governor moaned obscenely as she rubbed her smooth green heels, arches and toes around his face. Lareth breathed deep, lost in the scent of her feet, letting it fill his nose and thoughts. Oh fuck yes! He felt his cock straining hard and erect in his trousers, for he was quickly more turned on than he had ever been! Lost in a haze of lust, he kissed her feet, and when the Twi’lek shoved her delicate toes into his mouth he eagerly sucked on them.

The Governor had no idea how much time had passed when Elema slowly withdrew her feet from his face. Gasping, body shaking with arousal and need, he looked up at her desperately.

“I have to go now,” said the Twi’lek, sliding off the desk and putting her shoes back on. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”

“I… I did!” Lareth admitted, mind still racing with what had happened.

“Do you want to do this again?” she asked, and there was a seductive, wicked smile upon her lips as she asked.

“Yes!” blurted the Governor at once. “Oh yes, please!”

“Well, in that case, you have to do something for me,” said the Twi’lek, leaning in close. “Remember. I like it when men jerk off to me. So tell me. What are you going to do when I am gone?”

“Masturbate!” he said at once, admitting it. “Oh fuck, I want to jerk for you so much!”

“Then do it!” said Elema firmly, almost as if it was a command. “And then have me come back tomorrow and tell me all about it. You can do that, can’t you?”

“Yes!” he agreed eagerly. “Yes, of course!”

“Good,” she purred, pleased. And with that, the Twi’lek walked back around the desk and made for the door. She did not even look back, as if done with Governor and giving him no further thought.

The moment the door closed behind her, Lareth pulled his cock out and began fapping frantically.

\-----

That evening, Hera read more femdom erotica, pondering her next move.

She could not believe that the day had gone so well! Governor Belg was not just willing to indulge his fetish, but desperate to! She wondered if he had ever gotten to worship feet like that before? Not likely. It was more probable that he had hidden that part of him as he rose through the ranks of the Empire. It was a risk to confront him with it, for Imperials were known to execute others to protect their secrets, but Hera suspected he would cave. Now she just had to press her advantage.

Obviously, she knew that what she was doing was overtly sexual (as least, in the mind of a foot fetishist like Belg) but she was not about to let the man go too far with her. Just the thought of sex with an Imperial made her skin crawl. Plus, there was her lover Kanan, and she would rather not betray him.

Besides, in the stories, none of the men would dare so much as touch the dominant women without permission…

\-----

Lareth could not get the Twi’lek slave from his mind. Whenever he closed his eyes, he either saw her sexy bare feet, or her strong, commanding emerald eyes.

Masturbating at his desk had proven to be a mistake. It took a lot of tissue to clean up, and he was utterly paranoid that had missed something. All afternoon, through his endless meetings, the Governor was constantly worried that someone would see some pearly jism on a datapad or his desk, and he would either die of embarrassment, be relieved of his post, or both.

Such never happened. When the day ended, he left his office and went to his quarters, a sumptuous suite in the opposite wing of the tenth floor. His Stormtrooper escort followed him, and even though Lareth knew that the walls and doors of this level were soundproof (the better to protect the sensitive meetings that the Governor engaged in) he was still paranoid that they had heard him jerking off.

The guards took their posts at the doors to his suite, and Lareth proceeded inside. It was already quite late, and in the windows opposite the door he could see Kalinda’s magnificent starry night sky, and several of the planet’s six moons. It had been a long day, and he needed to relax.

Except he could not. He kept thinking back to Elema, and how she had allowed him to worship her feet. It was amazing, and just thinking about it got him aroused…

Lareth felt his gaze drift to the Twi’lek’s shoes, which were sitting on a table nearby. He knew for a fact now that he had her permission to enjoy them, but he still hesitated. He needed to get some self-control! He was an Imperial Governor, not a horny teenager!

It was no use. He thought again of sucking on her toes, and the urge to pleasure himself returned with a vengeance. His will collapsed, and before Lareth even realised what he was doing, he had grabbed the shoes and was headed to the bedroom.

Lost to his lust, it was not long before Lareth was lying naked on his bed, breathing the scent of Elema’s shoes while jerking himself silly with a free hand. The scent of her slippers were as nothing compared to the Twi’lek’s actual feet, of course, but as he lay there, fapping frantically, it was more than enough.

“Fuck!” he cried out as he climaxed, letting thoughts of her wash over him. “Oh fuck yes!” he moaned, glad again for the soundproof walls.

Breathing heavily, his head slowly clearing after the intense orgasm, and looked down at the cum that was now drying on his chest and stomach. The shame of a man of his station being a jizz-covered mess washed over him.

“I should be better than this,” said Belg aloud. He needed to get control, he knew. Letting an alien slave get into his head like this was wrong, not matter how hot her feet were. He needed to think straight, needed to clear his thoughts of her, needed to… to…

Lareth inhaled her foot-scent once more, and moaned. He needed to fap. Yes, that was it. Just once more, and he would be able to think clearly again.

Just once more…

\-----

Lareth was weak and he knew it. The following morning he found himself eager to see Elema again, even as he told himself that he should not. His growing lust for her was a weakness, one that both his allies and enemies would exploit if they knew about. He had to send her away, pass her off to another Imperial with a Twi’lek slave stable. At points in the morning, Belg told himself that he was going to do just that, but every time he wavered before he could even access the files required for a slave transfer.

Lunch time came, and he decided not to call for her. No, Belg would just put the Twi’lek out of his mind. Another worthless slave could just bring him his lunch. He would simply call the kitchen and request another Twi’lek. One with blue skin, maybe, or one of those rare reds? Yes, that was exactly what he would do…

“Kitchen, send up Elema with my lunch,” Lareth commanded eventually into the com. He hated himself even as he said it, but he could not deny the rush of excitement he felt at the thought of seeing the green-skinned vision of beauty again. The few minutes before her arrival seemed to drag as his heart raced.

The second she entered, Lareth could see a change in the Twi’lek. Elema moved across the room confidently, standing taller and more imposing than before. She was shorter than he, but from his seated position he had to look up at her, and something about her stance seemed to make her presence in the room larger, more commanding. As she moved, Lareth drank her in. He had been so focused on her feet that he had neglected to fully appreciate her full breasts and flat stomach, or the seductive sway of her hips. She was magnificent, and no slave had ever seemed more gorgeous in the revealing wear that had been imposed on her.

“Greetings, Governor,” Elema said, depositing his lunch on the desk, emerald eyes locked on him. Slowly, taking her time, she walked around the table to where he was sat. “How are you today?” she asked, voice low and seductive, and as she spoke she slid up onto his desk.

“F-fine,” he managed, oddly tongue-tied.

“Good,” she said, a smile on her lips. “Now, I believe you have something to tell me? Something about your activities since last we met…?” Elema asked teasingly, and made a gentle jerk-off motion with her hand.

“Oh fuck!” Lareth gasped, feeling overwhelmed by her appearance, her tone of voice, and now her gestures. “I… I masturbated so much!” he admitted to her. “I jerked off the moment you left yesterday, and three more times last night! I… I couldn’t stop myself!”

“You don’t need to,” said Elema. “Just… surrender to my feet,” she urged softly, and one more Lareth watched, entranced, as she lifted a bare foot before him. Gently, she traced her green toes down his face, from his forehead to his goatee-covered chin, and the Governor trembled in arousal.

“You may worship them,” said the Twi’lek, granting her permission as she brought both bare feet to his face.

At once Lareth raised his hands to grab them and hold the objects of his obsession to his nose. He breathed deep, and the human’s eyes all but rolled back in his head as he got off on the scent. The Governor moaned obscenely, and eagerly inhaled again, an addict taking a hit and being unable to stop craving more. As before, he swiftly lost track of time, and eventually he moved from sniffing her feet to kissing and licking them. When Elema shoved her toes into his mouth, Lareth mindlessly began sucking on them, too lost to do anything else.

Eventually, her seductive voice penetrated the fog of his thoughts. “I bet you want to masturbate now, don’t you?” she asked. “Jerk off with my feet in your face?”

Lareth’s eyes met hers at once, and saw the sparkle in her emerald orbs. Removing his lips from her toes, he nodded dumbly. “Oh yes please, Mist…” he said, and immediately cut himself off. Had he really been about to say that word? And no, please don’t let her have caught it!

Elema grinned with triumph. “What was that, Governor?” she asked, her tone saying she already knew the answer.

He froze. In his wildest fantasies, he dreamed of submitting to the feet of a dominant woman, but this… no, she was a slave, a sub-human alien. He could not allow himself to fall under her control. “N…. nothing,” he managed to say.

The Twi’lek pulled back her feet and left them hanging in the air, swaying gently back and forth before his eyes. The effect was almost hypnotic, as Lareth watched them tracing circles. “We’ve been over this, Governor,” said Elema firmly. “You are supposed to always be honest. Now… what did you almost say?”

Belg knew that this was his last chance to end this! To be strong! He felt like he was two people. Governor Belg, the powerful Imperial, and Lareth, the weak foot fetishist. He felt the two sides of him warring, one urging him to refuse her, the other urging him to surrender.

The truth was, however, that he had been a proud and dedicated Imperial for most of his adult life, and it had left him hollow and miserable. But at Elema’s feet, he felt excited and alive! There was no choice.

“I nearly said ‘Mistress’,” Lareth confessed, looking past her feet and into her eyes as he spoke, feeling the last of his resistance fall away as he did so.

“Good boy,” said Elema, her eyes flashing with power. “Now, kiss my toes one by one, and each time call me Mistress and tell me you are mine.”

He nodded, ever so aroused to be submitting to her, and kissed one of her toes. “I am yours, Mistress Elema!” he intoned, struggling not to explode with lust. The urge to touch his aching erection was so strong! Kissing the next toe, he repeated, “I am yours, Mistress Elema!” Then he kept on going, saying the words like a mantra, and each time it became a little more true.

When he was done, he looked up at her again, and he could see the approval on her face. “Very good, my pet,” she said, and Lareth was too far gone to object to the degrading term. “Now, we were talking about you masturbating with my feet in your face, were we not?”

“Yes, Mistress!” he groaned, wanting literally nothing more in the galaxy.

“You will,” Elema promised, “but not right now. Tonight, you will have me brought to your quarters. Your underlings will not question an Imperial officer requesting a Twi’lek slave for the night.” She laughed out loud as a thought occurred. “Though you and I both know which of us is the slave here, don’t we?”

A dying part of the Governor was alarmed by her words, but despite that Lareth found himself saying, “Yes, Mistress, I am your slave.”

“Very good,” purred Elema, delighted by his acceptance. “Have me brought to your suite, and greet me kneeling naked upon the floor. Then, I promise, you will get to worship my feet as never before!”

Lareth moaned, so excited and aroused that he feared he would cum right there and then. Forcing himself to stay under control, he said, “yes, Mistress! I will do as you ask!”

“No,” the Twi’lek corrected him sharply, “I asked nothing. You need to do as I command!”

“Yes, Mistress!” he agreed at once, uncaring of how pathetic he might sound. “As you command! I will do as you command!”

“Much better,” said Elema, hopping down off the desk and, after putting her shoes back on, headed for the door. Looking back at him, she said, “do not touch yourself until I see you next. On your knees, naked, and ready for me. Understand?”

“Yes, Mistress,” answered Lareth, so desperate to masturbate but knowing that somehow, he would obey.

She nodded in approval, and was gone.

\-----

As Hera left the office, walking past the Stormtrooper guards who were oblivious to what had just happened to their leader, she felt the thrill of triumph. Belg had responded just as she had hoped! She had perfectly captured the essence of the dominatrices in his fantasies, and as far as he knew, brought those fantasies to life.

If she were not a Rebel, mused the Twi’lek, she could have gone into acting!

Now, she really needed to put the Governor in his place. Now that he was referring to her as ‘Mistress,’ she could move to the next stage of the stories.

The way to truly break a submissive man, she had learned, was humiliation…


	3. Humiliation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To break down Governor Belg and increase her control, Hera (posing as 'Mistress Elema') humiliates and degrades the perverted Imperial.

Lieutenant Crispin did not seem to enjoy escorting Hera to the tenth floor, and as they rode the turbolift together that evening, the weasel-faced man kept giving her sour looks. Silently, they reached the pinnacle of the castle, and together walked the corridors to the Governor’s suite.

Outside the door to Belg’s personal abode, the Lieutenant turned to face the Twi’lek. “You had better appreciate what an honour this is, slave,” he told her. “In his three years as the Emperor’s appointed ruler of this planet, the Governor has never once taken a slave for the night.”

“I will not disappoint,” said Hera, back to her meek and submissive demeanour.

“See that you do not,” warned Crispin. Then he gestured to one of the two Stormtrooper guards and the white-armoured soldier dutifully pressed the com for the room beyond. “Governor, the green-skinned slave is here as you requested.”

“Send her in,” came the reply from the panel on the wall, “alone.”

“Yes, sir,” said the Lieutenant, as the door opened. With one last look of disgust at the alien slave, he waved her inside.

Hera stepped through, and as the door slide shut behind her, she began to mentally change gears. No longer Elema the slave, she straightened her back, narrowed her eyes, and became instead Mistress Elema.

\-----

The Governor’s suite was split into several rooms, with the lounge being the central one where the entrance was located. Lareth could not risk his underlings seeing him through the open doorway when Elema entered, so he had instead lurked in the adjoining bedroom. As soon as he heard the door close behind the Twi’lek, he emerged and entered the living room.

The gorgeous woman turned to face him, noticing his presence at once, as he stepped into the room completely naked. Elema glared, her face registering her displeasure, and at once he realized his mistake. Lareth dropped quickly to his knees, and then began crawling towards her on all fours. Reaching his Mistress, he looked up at the powerful Twi’lek, adoration upon his face.

“Better,” said Elema, and only then did she slip out of her shoes. The Governor’s eyes went at once to her bare feet, and it was all he could do to resist throwing himself at them. However, he knew his role. He had to wait for permission. “You know your place,” said the Twi’lek with obvious approval. “Very well. You may kiss my toes, slave,” she said, and there was no mistaking the mocking tone in her voice as she called him ‘slave.’

Lareth had had all afternoon to ponder his new position, and did not even consider objecting to his Mistress’s new term for him. Instead he worshipfully bent down and began lovingly tending to her feet, sniffing and licking and kissing like a man possessed. Which, in a sense, he was.

The Governor was aroused like never before, naked before his Mistress and indulging his fetish in a way he only had in his wildest dreams. Lost in a haze of lust, he had no idea how long he was kissing her gorgeous green toes, and was perfectly content to do that all night if required to do so. Eventually, however, her commanding voice demanded his attention.

“Enough, slave,” she said, and he stopped at once. “Follow me,” she commanded, and began moving towards the sofa beneath the large window at the far side of the room. Taking a seat, Elema gestured to the floor immediately before her, and Lareth crawled swiftly to the spot, kneeling before his Mistress.

The room was silent, the only sound being the Governor’s heavy breathing as he kneeled there, heart racing, and looked up at his Mistress. Her emerald eyes took in his nude body, saying nothing, and he let himself be inspected. He no longer had any secrets from the Twi’lek, and let her take him in.

Elema finished her visual inspection and raised an eyebrow. “What is that?” she asked, gesturing with a bare foot in the direction of Lareth’s groin.

“My… my cock, Mistress,” said the Governor, glancing down at his raging hardon. His dick was as erect as it had ever been, and with every fibre of his being he longed for the sexy Twi’lek to reach out and touch it with her bare foot.

Elema laughed out loud. “Is that what you think?” she mocked, staring at his small 3-inch erection. “Nothing that small qualifies as a real cock! I’ve seen data crystals bigger than that!” she told him, and laughed again.

Lareth lowered his head, stung by her degrading words. Oddly though, the humiliation only made him harder, and his small erection began to drip precum. He could not deny that her words were making him even hotter and more aroused than ever!

The Twi’lek noticed. “Are you getting off on this?” asked his Mistress, unable to keep the amusement from her voice. “Wow! Here I thought you were just a foot freak, but no, it’s more than that! You’re a completely pathetic beta male, aren’t you? A worthless thing with a tiny dicklet. Isn’t that right?”

The Governor looked up at her, wanting to refute her words. “I…. I…” he stammered, unable to admit just how hard her mockery was making him.

“Say it!” she commanded firmly. “Tell me what a humiliation addict you are!”

Not for the first time, Lareth felt his will crumple under Elema’s authoritative voice. “Yes, Mistress,” he told her. “I am a pathetic beta male with a worthless tiny dicklet,” he said, getting off on the admission and growing painfully hard. “I am addicted to being humiliated and abused!”

The Twi’lek laughed. “Oh, this is too good! I can sit here and insult and degrade you all night, and you, my pathetic slave, will do nothing but thank me for it!”

The Governor felt the last of his will fade away, as he accepted his worthless status. “Yes, Mistress!” he told her, surrendering the last of his dignity and pride. “I am worthy only of being degraded! I am your pathetic slave!”

“With a worthless, tiny cock,” she added with a grin.

“Yes, Mistress,” Lareth agreed at once. “With a worthless, tiny cock.”

“You know I’ll never let you stick that worthless nub in me, don’t you slave?” Elema asked, mockingly.

“Yes, Mistress,” said the Governor, both his tone and the broken look in his eyes showing that he had accepted that fact.

“All you will ever do,” said the Twi’lek, “is worship my feet and jerk off. And that is all you will ever want to do!”

“Yes, Mistress!” Lareth agreed, also accepting this, all hope for anything more dying within him.

Elema smiled, evidently satisfied that he knew his menial place. As a reward, she gently, slowly, extended her bare feet to the kneeling slave’s face. The human watched as her green toes approached, and shuddered with pleasure as they brushed his face. “Suck on them,” she commanded, and he complied at once. Quickly lost in his fetish, Lareth surrendered as his excitement grew, and his tiny cock dripped ever-more precum with the intensity of his arousal.

Evidently the Twi’lek could see his straining erection. After a while, Elema said calmly, “I bet you want to masturbate, don’t you?”

“Yes, Mistress!” Lareth said at once, his voice full of desperate need.

“Hmm,” mused Elema thoughtfully. “Masturbate. Jerk off. Good terms for what you want to do, but there is another word, isn’t there my slave?” she asked teasingly. “A word that better fits when pathetic slaves with tiny cocks fap themselves silly. Do you know this other word, my pet?”

Between sucking toes and inhaling the scent of her feet, Lareth was barely able to form a cognizant thought and answer. “Wank, Mistress?”

“Good slave!” Elema congratulated. “Yes, pathetic betas like you wank. You are a wanker.”

“Yes, Mistress. I… I am a wanker,” he repeated, mindlessly accepting this new degrading term for himself, his resistance all but gone.

The Twi’lek laughed. “Oh, this is too easy! So be it my pathetic slave! Grab hold of that tiny joke of a cock of yours – you only need one hand - and worship my feet while you wank for me!”

“Yes, Mistress!” gasped Lareth at once, holding her feet in his face with his left hand and dropping his right to his straining erection. Just the slightest touch of his cock sent raw pleasure shooting through him, so hot and needy was his arousal. Sucking on the toes of one of her feet, Elema rubbed the other across the middle of his face, letting the desperate human breathe in their scent, driving him even wilder. Almost without realizing it he began wanking, jerking his cock back and forth along his 3-inch shaft and moaning even louder.

“Yes…” Elema urged him, “that’s it! No need to hold back… just worship me with every stroke… let yourself surrender… and when you cum… you will truly be mine!”

“Yes, Mistress!” Lareth gasped between her toes, “yours!” he cried out, fapping his cock frantically as he felt the approach of orgasm. “Yours… yours…. yoursyoursyours…” he babbled, nearly incoherent as his mind was consumed with lust. And with one final deep breath and inhale of her heavenly feet, his tiny cock erupted as every fibre of his being exploded with ecstasy! “FUUUUCKKK!” he cried out, wanking himself into oblivion.

Heart hammering in his chest, mind swimming in pleasure, the Governor slowly came down from his high. Elema slowly removed her feet from his face to let him recover, and he glanced down at the pearly white cum he had shot over the carpet and base of the sofa. Lareth felt embarrassed for causing such a mess, thinking that only a disgusting wanker would be so careless, and then realizing that that was what he was. Slowly, dazed, he looked up at the Twi’lek sat before him.

Elema, his Mistress, looked down on him, an amused smile upon her face.

“Yours… Mistress,” said the human, knowing that she had won.

\-----

Hera left the human to clean his floor, for the Governor wanted the results of his masturbation gone before one of the cleaning slaves came to his rooms the following morning. Hera departed the suite and, at the direction of the Stormtrooper guards, made her way back to the slave quarters to sleep.

As she lay in her bunk, Hera pondered what a wild day it had been. Hera had never done that sort of thing with anyone before, and the Imperial’s antics both amused and revolted her.

Well, they revolted Hera, and amused Elema. It was like she was two people. Three, if she counted her ‘slave Elema’ and ‘Mistress Elema’ as separate personas. Was that okay? For her to be three people? Perhaps, mused Hera, captivity was taking more of a toll on her mind than she realised.

It was a matter of self-analysis that she would have to deal with when she had escaped and was back on Atollon. For now, Hera had to work on making ‘Mistress Elema’ just what that Belg wanted. Needed, even.

The Rebel vowed not to rush it, however. In the stories, the dominant women got the men nice and addicted to their control first, and only then did they begin seeing how far they could push their subs. A little request here, a not-so-little request there, slowly building to the inevitable point where the woman made big demands that no man in his right mind should comply with. And yet they did, every time.

Would Belg respond the same way? Would he let his obsession destroy him?

Only one way to find out…

\-----

The next evening, the Governor called her back, as Hera knew he would. This time Lieutenant Crispin was not required to escort her, and she made her way through the castle solo. Arriving at the room, the Twi’lek was soon sat upon Belg’s luxuriously comfortable sofa, the naked Imperial literally grovelling at her feet.

This was not her thing, but she could easily understand how some women would be into this. Having a man so completely under her control was intoxicating!

But how under her control was he? Hera decided it was time to begin pushing.

Lifting her feet away from him, Belg followed her green toes with hungry eyes, desperate for more. “You may resume worshipping,” she told him, “as soon as you order me something to drink.”

The human frowned. “Mistress, I…”

“Wine,” Hera said firmly. “Call your people, and have a bottle sent up. I wish to drink while you worship my feet.”

Belg hesitated, clearly wavering.

“Obey…” said the Twi’lek softly, gently swaying a bare foot back and forth across his vision.

“Yes, Mistress,” said the Governor, inevitably giving in to her. Rising, he crossed the room, his small erection bobbing as the naked man moved. Reaching the com panel, he commanded that a slave bring up some wine. When the kitchen complied, he turned to her, a look of confusion upon his face.

“I will answer the door,” said Hera, not wishing to push him too far just yet. “No one will see you in your pathetic state.”

“Thank you, Mistress!” he intoned, crossing the room and kneeling before her again. She lifted a foot to his face, and he eagerly resumed his obsessive worship.

The wine soon arrived, and she ordered Belg out of sight while she answered the door and took the bottle – an expensive white from the planet Kuat – and return to the sofa. Pouring herself a glass, she permitted the Governor to resume his adoration of her feet.

Hera felt a little guilty for sipping a fine wine on a sumptuous sofa, while twenty of her fellow Twi’leks were lying in bunks, miserable, several floors below. But she knew that this was not about her comfort, Hera was just projecting an image to reinforce her power and authority over the grovelling human she had enslaved.

After finishing a glass of the exquisite bubbly, she looked down at Belg, who was still as aroused and eager as ever. It was fascinating to see him so lost, and she wondered how long the human would remain kissing and licking her feet without her telling him to stop. All night, most likely.

Casually, she reached over and poured a second glass, but it was not for her. “Slave,” she said, getting his attention as she put the bottle back down on a table beside the sofa. “Are you ready for a treat?”

He looked up at her with brown eyes sparkling with lust and devotion. “Yes, Mistress,” he said at once.

Hera smiled. She put one leg down on the floor and crossed the other over it, and pressed her toes from the top leg into his mouth. Belg began sucking at once, but his eyes went wide with delight as she took the glass and brought it to her knee. Tipping it slightly on its side, not enough to spill any of the wine but giving a clear indication of what she had planned, the Twi’lek asked, “ready?”

“Yes, Mistress,” he managed, speaking with her toes still in his mouth.

She tipped the glass all the way. The finest of Kuati wines spilled down, running in rivulets down the smooth, flawless skin of her leg. Some of it dripped around and fell to the carpet below, but enough reached the mouth of Lareth Belg that the Imperial got to drink the expensive alcohol from her toes.

The man’s face was the definition of bliss, and Hera knew that she had made the right move to deepen his devotion. Now, to test it further!

No sooner did the last of the wine reach the human’s lips, than she said, “time for you to do what you do best, my pathetic little wanker!” she ordered. “Grab that joke you call a cock, but don’t start fapping just yet…”

At once, the Governor’s right hand was on his straining erection, and Hera could see how desperate he was to begin jerking it for her.

“Now,” she said carefully, “I know you are such an obedient slave. But many slaves are only eager to serve before they cum. Afterwards, that delightful obedience fades, replaced with delusions of strength and freedom.” She leaned forwards, looking down at him. “Even after you cum, you are still my slave. Understood?”

“Yes, Mistress!” said Belg at once.

“We’ll see,” she said thoughtfully. “I have a little challenge for you, slave. When you cum, I want you to catch that worthless jism in your hand. And then you are going to eat it!”

Hera saw the hesitation flick across his face, a slight furrowing of the man’s brow and a flash of uncertainty in his brown eyes. “Yes, Mistress,” he said, not quite as quickly as he usually did.

“Obey me,” she said again, intensifying her tone of authority. “You are weak. You are lost. You have surrendered yourself to me. I am your Mistress, and you will eat your cum for me! Is that clear?”

“Yes, Mistress!” said Belg with more enthusiasm.

“Better,” said the Twi’lek, still not certain of how this would go. After staring him down for a moment, she lifted her bare feet to his face and permitted him to lick, and kiss, and suck, and inhale, and worship with all his enthusiasm. As he got into it, she said, “now, slave. You may wank for me!”

“Yes, Mistress Elema!” he said, and immediately began fapping his three-inch shaft. Moaning obscenely, body shaking with excitement and need, Hera knew that this would not take long.

“Remember, slave! Catch that filth of yours when you cum!”

“Yes, Mistress!” Belg managed, the words little more than a primal groan of lust. His hand was now a blur on his cock, and as he began to twitch and gasp, Hera knew that he was there.

“Both hands! Catch it all!” she commanded, keeping her feet in his face as he brought his left hand to his cock, forming it into a cup. He was just in time to catch the pearly white ejaculate that spurted forth, as the Governor cried out in orgasmic ecstasy. Lost to the sensation, his whole body shaking with pleasure, Belg did not quite catch it all, with some of the stuff joining the wine in staining the carpet below. Hera was just glad that, as the previous night, he did not accidently get any of his filth on her.

Slowly, shuddering, Belg came back to himself, and as she withdrew her feet, he glanced down at the goop in his hand. His earlier hesitation returned, as the arousal and need began to fade.

“Do it, my pathetic slave!” Hera ordered, re-asserting her control.

“Yes… Mistress,” the Governor said, meeting her gaze and losing himself anew in her emerald eyes. Hera then watched, delighted, as Belg lifted his hand and, wincing, began to eat his own cum.

“Good slave,” she said, leaning back in the sofa. “Very good! Even when not worshipping, you are still mine!”

“Yes, Mistress,” said the human, licking up the last of it and bowing before her.

\----- 

Lareth woke the following morning, and almost immediately began reviewing the events of the previous night in his head. Things always looked different after one slept, and he thought back to the humiliation of the previous night, licking up his own cum pathetically.

And even now the degradation of that act of submission turned him on.

The Governor now knew for a fact that he had lost control, but he also knew that he did not care. Elema was in his thoughts constantly, always present in his mind, and all he could think about was the next time he would get to be her slave.

Slowly, Lareth rose and got ready, preparing for the activities of the day. And what a dull day it was. Time dragged on as he engaged in meetings and reviewed reports from across Kalinda. The chrono in his office seemed to be moving in slow motion, and everything he said and did seemed so… pointless. So hollow.

Only thoughts of Elema’s feet gave him life. And the realization of that only hammered home what a totally foot-addicted slave he had become. Not that he had the will to do anything about it.

Evening came, and with it a sense of renewed purpose. Normally, at the end of a long twelve-hour day, it was all the Governor could do to make it back to his suite before collapsing on his sofa or bed. The pressures of running a planet were extreme, and maintaining the façade of being in control was draining. Now, however, the thought of his Mistress gave him newfound strength and energy. Once home, he eagerly got naked and put in the request to the slave quarters to send her up.

Nude, he fell to his knees in the centre of the living room, facing the door just a few meters away. For the last two nights, Lareth had chosen to hide away when Elema entered, emerging only when the door closed behind her, but as he slipped deeper into her control, that now seemed wrong. A slave should greet his Mistress the moment she arrived, he decided. Besides, it was not much of a risk. His two Stormtrooper guards stood either side of the door, facing away. And if anyone else happened to be passing in the corridor, well… Lareth found he no longer cared.

The doors opened, and the vision that was Mistress Elema stepped into the room. He stared up at her, the gorgeous Twi’lek filling his vision. While his fetish for feet dominated Lareth’s mind, he also fully appreciated her sumptuous curves, full breasts, long legs, and her flawless skin. Everything about her was perfection.

As the door closed behind her, Elema made the subtle change of stance and demeanour that turned her from a servant to a dominatrix. Looking down at him, she gave the Governor that confident, triumphant grin that he found so sexy, the one said she knew just how much power she had over him. “Good evening, slave,” she purred.

“Good evening, Mistress,” he said, not even attempting to keep the adoration from his voice. Just her presence gave him an excited thrill, and already his exposed cock was semi-erect.

Looking down at him, she casually slipped out of her shoes, revealing her bare feet to his greedy eyes. On reflex, he moved towards them, eager to begin his worship, until Elema said, “no, slave. Wait.”

Lareth ceased moving immediately, and looked up to see his Mistress’s emerald eyes sparkling with mischief. “This evening, you are going to work for my feet,” she told him.

“Yes, Mistress,” said the Governor at once, not really sure what she meant, but the words were now his instant response to whatever she said.

“I take it, slave, you know what ‘edging’ is?” asked Elema.

“Yes, Mistress,” said Lareth, feeling both excited and apprehensive about where this was going. “It is where someone is stimulated to the brink of orgasm, tastes the approaching pleasure, stops, and then starts over. Done repeatedly it can be… intense, Mistress.”

The jade skinned Twi’lek laughed. “Oh, let me guess! My pathetic little slave has edged himself, am I right? Have you spent long lonely evenings fapping endlessly, edging your tiny dicklet over and over to feet porn?”

“Yes, Mistress,” said the human, and the humiliation of admitting it gave him a thrill that made his erection stiffen.

“Hardly a revelation,” said Elema with an insulting sneer. “Still, it saves me the trouble of training you. Here is how it will be, my pathetic slave. You will sit there, on your knees, and edge that joke of a cock for me. Each time you reach the edge you will count. You will not fake your edges, and you will not cum! Once you have reached the number of edges that I have set, then and only then can you worship my feet.” She looked at him with pity. “I would let you edge with my feet in your face, but we both know you’d only lose control and cum in seconds, and I want this to last. Do you understand me, slave?”

“Yes, Mistress!” said Lareth, oddly excited by the prospect.

“Then begin, my pet,” the Twi’lek commanded softly.

At once the Governor grabbed his cock, one hand gently working the shaft and the other teasing the head as he began fapping. Lareth was so hard, he was moaning in moments, feeling the intense pleasure of wanking in her presence. Jerking rhythmically, he resisted the urge to speed up, fighting to keep under control as she had instructed.

Elema smiled at him, watching him struggle, and as ever her wicked grin made Lareth feel even hotter. Content to just let him stroke and stare at her, she began to walk slowly and confidently around the room, exploring it in a way that she had not in previous nights. To do so, the gorgeous Twi’lek had to turn away from him, and he got a good look at her amazing behind, revealed by the thin thong that the castle’s slaves wore. Unable to properly see her bare feet at this angle, he instead drank in the curves of her ass. “Fuucckkk…” he said softly, staring at her body and feeling the intense urge to speed up and cum. Almost unconsciously, he gave into that desire, fapping ever faster as his eyes roamed up and down her flawless pale green skin. “Ugghhh…” he moaned aloud, uncaring of how pathetic he sounded.

Elema, who was stood admiring a wall painting of his (a depiction of the historical Empress Teta, who united the Koros System) looked back at him. “Don’t cum,” she reminded him firmly.

“Yes… uggghh…. Mistress,” Lareth managed, shaking with need and arousal. He forced his hands to slow down as he felt the tingle of approaching orgasm. The sensation built as he forced his hands away from his cock, gasping and moaning as he fought for control. The human shuddered as the climax was averted, and he felt the lesser pleasure of an edge instead. It felt amazing, but the denial of orgasm felt almost painful. “One… Mistress,” he told her between laboured breaths.

The Twi’lek nodded. “Continue, slave,” she ordered, and he resumed his wanking.

The sounds of his fapping and heavy breathing were the only noise in the quiet, spacious room, and Lareth watched as Elema silently explored his home. She inspected the paintings on the walls, the small figurines on his table. Finally, he watched as she paused by a small holo-cube on a shelf. Curious, she tapped it, and it immediately projected the image of a SoroSuub Corporation made Horizon-class star yacht. “What is this, slave?” she asked, clearly intrigued.

“My… oh fuck….my Governor’s yacht… Mistress,” Lareth said, forcing the words out between moans of pleasure. “It’s called… nnngghh… the Blue Hope.”

She turned to look at him. “And what is it used for?”

“Pleasure rides… Mistress,” he answered, finding it hard to stroke and carry out a meaningful discourse at the same time. “Just… nngghh… around the system…. When I get… get a day off… to relax…”

“Have you taken such a personal day recently?” asked Elema.

“No… Mistress,” he answered, jerking a little faster as he felt the approach of another delightfully denial-filled edge.

“Interesting…”

\-----

“Interesting…” mused Hera, turning back to the hologram. This was it! Her way to freedom was this ship! It was just a leisure yacht, unlikely to be fast or even well-armed, but it would suffice.

She took in the details, for the ship’s specs were displayed down the side of the image. A minimum crew of one, four at maximum. Given the influence of an Imperial Governor, she would expect the full four, plus Belg himself and his two ubiquitous Stormtrooper bodyguards. Even if she could reduce the Governor to a grovelling mess (which seemed quite likely), she would still need to overpower six people to take over.

Hera frowned. Not impossible, but still risky. She was just thinking about that, when she noticed the passenger specs. Despite the small amount of crew, the yacht – the Blue Hope – was modified for a large number of passengers. No doubt for parties where the Governor entertained high ranking Imperial guests.

She suddenly thought of her fellow Twi’leks here in the castle, enslaved and suffering. If she could get all of them onto the yacht, they could take it with ease. And then Hera could free everyone…


	4. Ruin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hera puts her escape plan into action, and Governor Belg, her broken slave, obediently assists.

The next night, Lareth was at it again. On his knees for her, his eyes drank in Elema’s curves as he edged himself over and over. Moaning obscenely, he all but drooled as he wanked continuously, every edge feeling so good but always denied the true bliss of cumming for her and her magnificent feet.

“Seven… Mistress!” he grasped, eyes wide with pain and pleasure as he shook with his latest edge. “Please… please… I can’t… can’t hold out….” he begged weakly, struggling not to cum and desperate for her permission.

The gorgeous Twi’lek seemed to like it when he begged. Laughing, she said, “not yet, my pathetic slave.” Sat on the sofa, she looked down on him, her bare right foot swinging back and forth in front of his eyes, tempting him, driving him wild, but never getting close enough for him to worship. “If you cum, you will not get to taste these toes tonight! Just a few more edges, slave, and then you can worship my feet like the desperate addict you are.”

“Yes… yes, Mistress!” he said, resuming fapping as he trembled with need.

“Tell me, slave,” said Elema thoughtfully. “What’s with all the Twi’leks in this castle?”

“I… don’t understand… Mistress,” said Lareth, struggling through his haze of lust to get the point of her question.

“You have them dress in revealing attire,” said the Twi’lek, gesturing to her skimpy outfit, “but refuse to let your people touch the slaves. Why?”

“Clothes… not my choice…” he answered, eyes still glued to her pale green toes as he stroked rhythmically, moaning. “Previous Governor… nngghhhh… wanted Twi’lek slaves… he chose the outfit…”

“And you just inherited them,” she concluded. “Let me guess. You added the slippers so you couldn’t be tempted by their feet?”

“Yes…” said the human, feeling a thrill just from hearing her say the word ‘feet.’ Fapping faster involuntarily, he forced himself to let go of his tiny cock, shuddering with another aborted orgasm. “Eight… Mistress,” Lareth said, confirming another edge.

“Tell me honestly, slave,” Elema asked. “Do you even want Twi’lek slaves here?”

“No, Mistress,” the Governor admitted, taking hold of his erection again and gently resuming his wanking. “This… objectification… is crass.”

“But you have to keep up appearances?”

“Yes…” confirmed Lareth. It was amazing to him that his Mistress understood.

She grinned. “So, deep down, you understand that humans are not superior to aliens, right slave?”

He paused, his jerking ceased. “Mistress… I…” he stammered, shocked by her words. “The Empire is clear… the supremacy of humanity…”

“Resume stroking,” Elema commanded softly, and Lareth immediately complied. “Now, feel the pleasure of your hands on your cock… the pleasure that only wanking for me can bring… and tell me again. Humans are not superior to aliens.”

“Please…” he begged, wanting to obey but unable to abandon the doctrine of his beloved Empire.

“Say it, slave!” she barked.

“Humans…” Lareth began, eyes wide with conflicting emotions, “humans are… not superior… to aliens… Mistress,” he said, surrendering to her as he knew he inevitably would.

“Much better, my pathetic little pet,” Elema congratulated. “Now say, ‘aliens are superior to humans’,” she said, laughing.

“No… please… don’t make me…” Lareth begged. He had honestly thought his Mistress had already broken him, and he was as surprised as she to find a line he would not cross.

The Twi’lek frowned. “You are my slave,” she said firmly, “you will say and do what I tell you to. Now, deny the Empire and tell me that you, pathetic little human, are inferior to aliens.”

“I… I…” he stammered, still fapping.

“Obey my feet,” Elema said softly, and gently brushed her toes across his face once, just to let him feel their touch. Lareth gasped, sticking his tongue out to taste the object of his obsession, but she withdrew it quickly. Desperately, he moaned and sped up his fapping. “Obey,” she repeated.

“Humans are inferior to aliens!” he blurted out at once. “I am inferior to aliens!” he called out, louder than he had intended. The humiliation was too much, and it made him so hot! Betraying the Empire for his Mistress was so wrong, and pathetic, and oh fuck but he loved it! A split-second before it was too late, he released his cock as his body trembled and shook with denial. “Nngghhh…. Nine! Nine, Mistress!” he told her as he edged again.

The Twi’lek laughed out loud! “Oh this is great! I wonder what other ways I can get you to spit on your beloved Empire?” she mused aloud, relishing her control over him. “Wait! No, not ‘spit on’…” she said, rising from the sofa and walking to the Governor’s wall of cherished possessions. Lareth watched her shapely ass sway as she moved, stroking himself as he took in the sight, not realising what she was doing until it was too late.

She returned with a plaque, a black and silver award commemorating his rising to the rank of Governor, signed by his Sector Moff in the Emperor’s name. The Imperial crest was emblazoned firmly in the centre. With growing horror, Lareth watched as Elema laid his most prized possession, a symbol of all he had worked for throughout his adult life and a mark of his beloved Empire’s faith in him, before him.

Right at his knees, underneath where he was wanking his tiny cock.

“Please no…” he said weakly, knowing what was going to happen next.

“That’s twice you’ve said no to me tonight,” said the Twi’lek with disappointment. “Don’t worry, my pathetic little slave, I will do my very best to drain that useless resistance and free will out of you. A few more mind-melting edges will leave you good and desperate, and then with the aid of my gorgeous feet, you will cum all over your beloved Empire. Doesn’t that sound good? Aren’t I a kind Mistress for breaking you?”

Lareth gulped, knowing that, deep down, he longed to be truly defeated, truly broken by her. Sooner or later, he knew, he would break and completely submit. It was only a matter of time.

And when it happened, he would love her for it.

\----- 

Hera was in no rush, staring at the Imperial and watching as, bit by bit, the edges made him more desperate, each one chipping away at his hesitation. This was it, she knew. If she could get him to spray his filth over such an important symbol of the Empire, then she knew that she could get Belg to do anything.

“Fourteen… Mistress!” he gasped, eyes wide with a mix of pleasure and pain, the edges coming thick and fast now.

“Ready to give in, slave?” she asked, waving her foot in front of his face. “Come on… you know you need it. Just take my toes in your mouth and then wank your brains out! I promise it will feel so good to cum all over your icon! Betray your ideals for me!”

“I… I…” gasped the Governor, as if physically fighting himself. “Please… please…”

“Please what?” Hera mocked. “Please stop? Or please make you do it?”

“I… I don’t know!” said Belg, still fapping mindlessly while suffering a crisis of loyalty.

The Twi’lek grinned, seeing how close he was. “Did I tell you about my day, slave?” she asked idly, still swaying her bare foot back and forth before him. “I was outside most of the day, out on the balconies, watering plants. And it was such a hot day today! You wouldn’t know, being in your office all day, but by mid-morning, I was already a sweaty mess, and I was out there again in the afternoon. I wouldn’t dare guess how my feet must smell after all that…”

Belg’s eyes were now rivetted to her foot, and there was no mistaking the pure animal lust upon his face. He was beaten, and Hera knew it. “Please!” he gasped, “please… let me taste your toes… as I cum for you!”

Hera laughed. She had won! “Cum for me… by spurting all over your coveted Imperial commendation. Right, slave? Tell me!”

“I will cum… for you…” said Belg, forcing the words out in a defeated tone, “all over my coveted… Imperial… commendation… Mistress.”

“Such a pathetic male,” said Hera, “but your weak-willed submission to me is to be rewarded. Now, worship me, slave!” she said, and thrust both her bare feet in his face.

Belg was lost in bliss as he immediately began sucking on the toes of her left foot, while grabbing the right and pressing it to his nose. Breathing deeply, he got high on the scent of her sweaty foot, inhaling as he groaned loudly and obscenely. At the same time, his hand began frantically pumping his tiny cock, bringing him ever closer to the orgasm that would confirm that he belonged to her and not the Empire.

Hera was fascinated, and could not deny how excited this was all making her! “Yes, that’s it! Wank for my feet! Aim your worthless dicklet… yes… good! Now, my slave, when you are ready, cum all over the Imperial seal!”

“Yes, Mistress!” he gasped, shaking with the approaching rush, “yes! Yes… yes… yesyesyesyes… nngghhh!” he cried out, shuddering with pleasure, eyes wide as his cock erupted all over the commendation, staining the metal and glass award with pearly white jism. He kept cumming and cumming, moaning in ecstasy as he spurted all over it, to the point that it was hard to see the Imperial crest underneath.

Hera laughed long and hard. “Oh, very good, my slave!” she beamed, delighted. “Very well done!”

Belg took a few laboured breaths to steady himself, and looked down at the mess he had made of the symbol of the Empire’s faith in. When he looked back up at his Mistress, Hera could see how broken and defeated he was.

It made her feel so good!

\-----

Later, back in her bunk in the slave quarters, Hera mentally reviewed the evening. Seeing the look of utter submission on the Governor’s face had felt amazing, and she had revelled in breaking him. Only now that the moment was passed and she was not as caught up in things, did Hera begin to question her actions.

What was she doing? Making a man masturbate on his prized possessions? Where had that come from? Hera had never so much as imagined such a thing, and yet here she was, being a ruthlessly demanding and abusive dominatrix!

No, not her. Elema. This persona she had crafted to manipulate Governor Belg was taking on a life of its own, and it was not a life that Hera wanted. She was only meant to act excited by breaking his will, and instead it had gotten her excited for real!

She needed to keep things in perspective. Things were coming along well, and tomorrow she would begin her plan for escape. Hera just needed to keep Elema under control a little while longer, and then she could put the Mistress aside for ever.

In many ways, thought the Twi’lek, life was simpler flying missions for the Rebellion. Getting shot at by Imperials was far less emotionally confusing than having them addicted to her feet.

She decided that she needed to be Hera for a while, and so she thought back to memories of happier times. And for her, that meant memories of Kanan, the love of her life.

Under the covers of her bunkbed, Hera reached down between her legs, and easily slid aside the tiny bit of fabric that covered her hairless pussy. Something about dominating Belg had gotten her moist, but it was not the Governor she wanted to think about. Picturing Kanan in her mind, she sighed as she gently teased her clit.

Closing her eyes and tipping back her head, Hera began to moan softly and enjoy herself. Just a bit of fun, she told herself, to help her get some perspective.

Her hand got to work on her pussy, and Hera let her memories of Kanan take over…

\-----

The following afternoon, Hera finished cleaning one of the castle’s many meeting rooms, and immediately reported to Lieutenant Crispin. The loathsome man was in his office, a tiny room on the third floor, and was filling out a report. Hera had been talking to some of the other Twi’leks about him, and over the last week had got a bearing on the man.

Crispin’s career was a joke. He barely graduated from the Prefsbelt Naval Academy, literally bottom of his class, and had crashed his TIE fighter on his first mission. Suddenly scared of combat, he had used family connections to get himself transferred to a cushy desk job in the Governor’s palace. His outspoken anti-alien bias had made him the natural choice to manage the castle’s Twi’lek slaves.

Well, thought Hera, nice to know he had found his niche.

“Time for your next assignment, slave,” he said, looking up as she came before his desk.

“Please, sir,” Hera asked, feigning subservience, “but may I be assigned to clean the Governor’s office?”

“You dare make suggestions to your superiors?” thundered Crispin, outraged that she had so much as spoken out of turn.

“No, sir,” she said hurriedly, slipping into the accented speech of her native Ryloth, a Twi’lek accent that many humans associated with their submission. “The Governor… he likes to watch me as I clean the windows…” she said. “It always cheers him up.”

The Lieutenant scowled, but there was a thoughtful look in his eyes. “Hmm. The Governor has taken quite a shine to you of late,” he mused, no doubt aware that Belg had taken Hera to his suite for the last four nights straight. “Very well. The Governor has a stressful job, and sending him his favourite eye candy can’t exactly hurt my career. Go on then,” he snapped, “but remember your place, slave. Don’t let your ‘suggestions’ become a habit.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, bowing, “thank you, sir,” she added, and quickly departed.

\-----

“Thank you, Admiral,” said Governor Belg to the hologram image before him. “I will take your plans under advisement,” he said, and then reached over and tapped a button on his desk, terminating the holocall. With a sigh, the ruler of Kalinda sat back in his chair, rubbing at his eyes while he yawned. Yet another stressful meeting where nothing got done. Lareth was fast getting tired of this job.

He glanced at the chrono. Half an hour till his next meeting, this one with a local representative of COMPNOR. Lareth was expecting that to be another dull, pointless waste of time. Resigned to his fate (and deciding that one day he should really get a secretary droid to help organise his day better) he lifted a datapad and decided to fill his time by reading an urgent report on problems in Kalinda’s agricultural sector.

Just then, the door to his office opened and, to his instant delight, Elema walked in!

“Mistress!” he gasped, and his submissive instincts took over. He rose from his chair, darted around his desk, and quickly fell to his knees before her.

The Twi’lek beauty looked down at him, her grin telling him that she was pleased with his instant obedience. “I have a task for you, slave,” she told him firmly.

“Yes, Mistress!” Lareth said at once, knowing that he would obey regardless of what she said.

“You need a day off, my pet,” said Elema, “to get away from all this,” she explained, gesturing around them. “You will make arrangements to take your yacht, the Blue Hope, out on a pleasure cruise, slave. And you will be going in the next couple of days. Am I clear?”

Lareth thought about how many meetings he would need to cancel to get that done, about how much the various Imperial departments on the planet would complain. He also realised that, compared with satisfying his Mistress, none of it mattered. “It will be done, Mistress,” he promised.

“Excellent,” she said, walking over to the desk and getting him to follow on all fours. Going around to his side of the table, Elema sat down in the Governor’s throne-like chair, literally usurping his position. Lareth did not even consider objecting, and instead kneeled obediently before her. “So broken, so obedient,” his Mistress mused. “Of course, I will need to go with you on your cruise. How can you relax without my feet?” she teased, and slowly slid out of her slippers.

“Yes, Mistress,” said Lareth, whose mind was burning with excited lust over the thought of going a whole day in Elema’s presence.

She raised her bare feet, hovering them in the air before the desperate Imperial’s face, and then casually added, “but of course, if I am dealing with you, we need some of the Twi’leks to serve the crew, correct? It should be a vacation for your crew too, right?” she asked.

“Yes, Mistress,” the human agreed mindlessly, staring at her pale jade toes.

“For four bridge crew and your two bodyguards…” mused Elema thoughtfully. “That would require… all twenty Twi’leks! Isn’t that right, slave?” she asked, continuing to tease him with her feet.

“Yes, Mistress,” Lareth replied, entranced by her bare legs swinging back and forth. “All… twenty…”

The Twi’lek dominatrix laughed lightly. “Yes, it’s just better if I think for you, isn’t it, my weak-willed and pathetic slave? You can just mindlessly worship my feet and mumble ‘yes, Mistress’ on command.”

“Yes, Mistress,” said the Governor, and was only dimly aware of her looking over at the mountain of datapads on his desk.

Elema lifted a few, checked the contents, and finally found one she wanted. “Ah, here it is,” she said, “your schedule. Go ahead and wipe the day after next,” she ordered calmly, handing it to him.

Eyes still locked on her swaying feet, Lareth did not even try to resist. In the back of his mind, a tiny alarm sounded, screaming that something was very much amiss and how could be so willingly blind to it. But he ignored that alarm, in favour of how good his submission to his Mistress made him feel. Taking the datapad, he broke eye contact with her toes only long enough to scroll down the day’s appointments and cancel each one. Then he handed it back to her.

“Such prompt obedience,” Elema purred with approval. “Now, in a moment, I am going to let you indulge your pathetic addiction and worship my feet. You can even wank as you do so, and cum all over this nice clean desk of yours. But first…” she said, and reached over to the nearby computer terminal, “tell me the highest-level access code for this installation’s database.”

The alarm in the back of Lareth’s mind grew louder, and he knew for a fact that this was a major issue. But he wanted her feet so badly, and wanted to submit so much! The more degrading things he did for his Mistress, the more he sacrificed his dignity and identity for her, the more aroused and excited he felt! He knew this act was a massive betrayal of the Empire. Not just a symbolic betrayal, like cumming on his commendation, but an actual betrayal of the Empire’s secrets and security.

And he wanted to do that for her so much! Wanted to be just that weak and desperate and willing to let her manipulate him in any way she wanted! He had no choice. He had to obey!

“Yes, Mistress Elema,” Lareth said after the briefest of pauses. “Enter code seven three epsilon aurek two nine two.”

The Twi’lek laughed as she entered the code, and the most important secrets of the Empire’s operation on Kalinda spilled before her. “Well done, my slave! Oh, you really have forsaken your Emperor for your Mistress, haven’t you?”

“Yes, Mistress,” he confirmed, looking up at her with adoration.

“Now, I will take care of everything for our vacation,” she said, accessing the files for the other Twi’leks. “And you can wank yourself further into submission.” And with that, she lowered her feet to his face.

Lareth gasped with pleasure, sucking on her toes as he pulled his tiny cock free from his uniform and began fapping. Yes, he thought, far better to wank and just let his Mistress do whatever she wanted. That was for the best…

\----

The next day, Hera was mopping the steps in the castle’s central stairwell, when Lieutenant Crispin approached, and she could tell by the man’s red face that he was angry.

“This is your idea, isn’t it?” he demanded without preamble, his voice just shy of a screech.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” said the Twi’lek, bowing slightly as she spoke. “I don’t know what you…” she began, but was immediately cut off by a charge of energy that flooded her body, stimulating every pain receptor she had. Screaming in agony, Hera did not even notice herself hit the floor, writhing in anguish as her body began to jerk and spasm in response to the torment.

She had no idea how long she lay there, crying out with inarticulate wails of pain, until eventually it ended. Opening her eyes, body aching, she looked up at the Lieutenant. She cursed herself for not even noticing that he had the controls for her slave collar in his hand when he had approached.

“Now, you sub-human trash,” he snarled, “let’s start again. The Governor’s little yacht trip, mystifyingly involving every one of you Twi’lek sluts, is your idea, isn’t it?”

“I… I saw he was tense,” Hera explained. “I thought a break would be good for him,” she lied.

The weasel-faced human scowled at her. “And he somehow requires a full twenty slaves for this excursion?” he asked, incredulous.

“We all have different skills,” she said, though the lie sounded weak even to her own ears. “It is all there is in the assignment details. Someone to cook Corellian food, someone to cook Thyferran food, someone to trim his hair, someone to…”

“I can read the details!” Crispin barked, interrupting her. “I just can’t believe that the Governor approved such a plan, or that he would require the skills of all of you in just one day!”

She shrugged. “It is the case, Sir.”

“You have clearly influenced him,” said the Lieutenant. “Using his new-found fondness for your green skin and strange head-tails,” he said, sounding revolted by her appearance. “Well, whatever you’re planning won’t work! I’m assigning myself to the cruise, to keep an eye on you slaves! Understand?”

“Of course, Sir,” said Hera meekly.

Crispin stared at her, his scowl deepening, and then he turned and stormed off.

Hera watched him go, and vowed that that would be the last time he got to use a slave collar on her or any other Twi’lek in this castle.

\-----

Shuttles coming and going from the castle tended to use the landing pad on the island at the centre of the lake, at the foot of the falls. Vessels staying for extended periods – such as the Governor’s private yacht – used hangars inside the waterfalls themselves. There were several, joined to the castle by tunnels through the rock, and ships came and went by means of a ‘shelf’ that extended out of the top of the hangar to temporarily block the falling water.

The whole place was a monument to Imperial engineering and audacity, and normally that filled Lareth with pride. Today, however, as he stared at the Blue Hope, he felt nothing except adoration for the Mistress at his side.

“You wear the Imperial uniform, slave,” Elema whispered in his ear as they watched the crew ascend the ramp into the yacht, “but you serve me. Only me.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he said, feeling himself weak with need.

“Oh look, here come the Twi’lek slaves,” she said, as the multi-coloured array of women approached. “Tell me again, slave. Twi’leks are what?” Elema asked teasingly.

“Twi’leks are superior to worthless humans like myself, Mistress,” Lareth answered on cue.

“Good, my pet,” she said with approval. “I do so love your unquestioning obedience.”

“Yes, Mistress,” he intoned, feeling his arousal grow as he mentally fell deeper under her sway.

They watched as the last of the personnel, including the sour-faced Lieutenant Crispin, went on board. That just left the Governor and Elema.

“You remember what to do, slave?” she asked carefully.

“Yes, Mistress,” said Lareth, “I will carry out your commands to the letter.” He knew full well what was about to happen, but there was no longer any part of him of that could resist. Lareth knew he was well and truly broken, and took extreme pleasure in that fact. Even that alarm in the back of his mind was silent. Accordingly, he would enact his Mistress’ plan exactly as she wished. They had gone over it in detail the previous night, and he had repeated it step-by-step as he edged over and over. Only when he could recite the plan precisely as Elema had said it, word for word, was he finally permitted the mindless bliss of wanking for her feet.

“Then let us begin, my pathetically devoted slave,” she commanded, and led the way into the ship.

\-----

The Blue Hope departed the hangar, flying through the mist of the waterfall and ascending swiftly through the atmosphere towards the black of space. Hera watched through a large circular window as her beloved stars came back to her and they left Kalinda behind. As the ship angled out towards one of the planet’s moon for a lazy, sub-light voyage, she had to remind herself that she was not free just yet. But at least she was back in space, where she belonged.

Turning around, she surveyed the large room on the ship’s third deck, the so-called ‘pleasure deck.’ The Governor’s suite on the yacht was barely smaller than his expansive one back at the castle, and it was not the only such accommodation on this deck. On her way in, aside from the massive guest rooms, she had noticed not only a bar and rec room, but even a small swimming pool, located under a dome, so that one could swim beneath the stars. It was the height of decadence, typical of the Empire’s waste and excess, and it sickened her.

Kneeling in the middle of the room was the Governor, patiently waiting for her command. Hera could still not believe that she had driven the man to the point that he had agreed to her plan. Had she – or rather Mistress Elema – really broken Belg? Or was this all an act, an elaborate ruse to trap her into revealing she was with the Rebellion? No, that made no sense. And yet, she could not help but doubt the man.

“Let us begin, slave,” she said.

“Yes, Mistress,” he replied, as he now always did, and rose from his position on the floor. Activating the ship’s com, Belg said, “Lieutenant Crispin! Report to me immediately!”

Hera was stood at the Governor’s side when, just one minute later, the weasel-faced officer entered the room. “Yes, Governor?” he asked at once after saluting smartly.

Belg glared at the man, eyes like daggers. There was a deathly silence in the room, enough to make Crispin slightly nervous. At last, the Governor spoke. “You have failed, Lieutenant,” he said with menace.

“Sir?” asked Crispin, confused.

Belg lifted a datapad theatrically. “I blocked your transmission to the Rebels, Lieutenant. Your little betrayal has failed.”

Crispin stared, wide-eyed and confused, at his commander. “I… Sir, I really don’t know what you’re saying! I would never…”

“Enough!” snapped the Governor, interrupting him. “You really thought I wouldn’t find out? This whole excursion was a trap, Lieutenant! I have suspected for months that someone on my staff has been supplying intelligence to the Rebellion. So I arranged for this trip, to leave myself nice and exposed in space, hoping that the traitor would take the bait. And you did.” Gesturing again to the datapad in his hands, he said, “I have the com logs, from your office, to the Rebels, giving them the entire itinerary of my trip. What was the plan, Crispin? Kidnap me? Assassinate me?”

The Lieutenant stood there, aghast, as his whole world fell apart around him. “Governor, there has to be some sort of mistake! Someone must have stolen my access codes and…” he glanced over Belg’s shoulder at Hera. “Her! The Twi’lek! She must have done this!”

“A pathetic alien framed you?” said the Governor, making the idea sound absurd. “Your efforts to escape justice are as feeble as your betrayal! Guards!” bellowed the Governor, and immediately his two Stormtroopers entered from the corridor beyond. “Arrest Lieutenant Crispin. The charge: treason! Lock him in the cargo hold and post a guard on him. His sickening betrayal of the Empire will not ruin my vacation. We will deal with him when we get home.”

“Yes, Sir!” said the two white-armoured soldiers in unison, and grabbed Crispin at once.

“No, please!” begged the Lieutenant as they cuffed his hands behind his back and removed his blaster pistol sidearm. “Governor, I swear to you, I would never betray the Empire!”

Belg ignored his protests. Instead, he told one of the Stormtroopers, “give me his weapon. And the slave collar control on his belt.”

“Yes, Sir,” said the soldier, passing the items over.

“Now get him out of my sight,” ordered the Governor, and they began to drag the Lieutenant out of the room.

When the last of Crispin’s protestations died in the distance, Hera turned to Belg. “Very well done, my slave,” she said, genuinely impressed. And not just with his acting, but with his loyalty too. She really had broken him!

“Yes, Mistress,” he said, falling to his knees and handing her the blaster and the collar remote.

Hera took them both, but it was the remote that concerned her most. Finding the right control for her collar, she pressed the release. A split-second later, the metal ring around her neck automatically unclasped and fell off her to the floor. She was free!

The Twi’lek rubbed her neck, feeling the absence of the weight that had been on her for almost two weeks. “Oh, that feels better!” she said out loud, not realizing how much she needed this. As she spoke, she happened to glance down at Belg, the human who had made this possible, and the Elema in her stirred with an idea. Yes… one last humiliation for her pet. “You should be rewarded for your hard work…” she said with a wicked smile.

\-----

It was over. Lareth had known it from the moment that his Mistress had outlined her plan. Elema, a Twi’lek slave, had been using him for nothing other than her freedom. And, as he had expected, the idea that he was worthless to her, that he was just a disposable means to an end, turned him on. Addicted to the thrill of being humiliated and degraded, Lareth had willingly, eagerly, gone along with her plan.

And now it was time for his reward.

“Ngghhh… one… Mistress…” he moaned, body trembling as he experienced the first of many edges. Naked, his Governor’s uniform hastily discarded and tossed aside since it no longer mattered, Lareth sat on his knees and fapped mindlessly for Elema.

The Twi’lek watched him, a smile on her gorgeous lips. “That’s it… just wank to the edge, over and over… while we take the ship!”

“Yes… Mistress…” said the Governor, and she laughed at his compliance.

She had just put in the com call to another slave, and Lareth stroked, eyes half-lidded, drooling slightly as he moaned in pleasure, while he faced the door. A minute later, when it opened, his pathetic appearance was instantly seen by the new arrival.

“What the…?” exclaimed the blue-skinned Twi’lek, who Lareth’s broken brain dimly recalled as being named Yadira.

There was one remaining Stormtrooper outside, since the second one was down at the cargo bay, guarding the ‘traitor’, Crispin. The soldier evidently turned when he saw the Twi’lek’s sudden reaction, but Elema stepped forward and gestured for her to be quiet. Yadira nodded, said something placatory to the Stormtrooper, and stepped into the room.

“What is going on?” asked the scared and confused slave once the door closed behind her.

Elema gestured to Lareth. “Behold, what remains of the ruler of Kalinda,” she said with triumph. “Slave! Tell her how pathetic you are!”

Lareth felt so humiliated to be exposed like this to another person, and still fapping, managed to speak between moans. “I am… Mistress Elema’s… ngghhh… pathetic… small-dicked… wanker… nghhhh….slave! I… I can only… ngghhh… fap… and obey… oh fuck! Two! Two, Mistress!” he moaned, eyes wide, as he fought to ride the edge and not cum.

“I don’t understand,” said Yadira, flicking her eyes between Lareth and Elema, disgust for the former evident on her face.

Elema held her removed slave collar, and with a click of the remote, Yadira’s also undid itself and fell off. “We’re getting out of here!” she said triumphantly. “Did you bring the tool kit as I asked?”

Yadira, stunned by her sudden freedom, took a moment to feel her neck before handing over the small grey case-like box. “Yes. Why?”

Elema took, opened it, and began work on their collars with the tools inside. “I’m going to disable the zapping mechanism,” explained the jade-skinned Twi’lek, “and enable us to remove them at will. Just in case the Imperials have a spare controller. Then you are going to go to the other slaves, tell them what is happening, and one by one have them come to visit the Governor.”

The other Twi’lek looked down at the naked human. Lareth could only wank faster in response to the contempt she had on her face. It felt too good to do anything else!

“And if the guard suspects anything?” asked Yadira, turning back to her co-conspirator.

Elema shrugged. “Then I will have my slave get on the com and command compliance. Trust me, this pathetic joke will do whatever I tell him. Won’t you slave?”

“Yes… Mistress…” he moaned in response.

Elema finished modifying the collars, and then sent Yadira forth. One by one, over the next two hours, every slave on the ship reported to the Governor’s suite. Even with Yadira having told them what to expect, most gasped to see their fearsome Imperial overlord reduced to a pathetic, mindless, stroke-zombie. While Elema disabled their collars, some took the opportunity to mock and ridicule Lareth, and the more they did, the more the humiliation-addict edged.

Finally, Elema had disabled the last collar. Handing it back to the slave, she said, “okay. Now, tell everyone to get in position. When you hear me over the ship-wide com, strike! With surprise and a three-to-one numbers advantage, the Imperials will be overwhelmed in seconds.”

The slave nodded and departed, off to find a large object that could be used as a weapon. Alone in the room again, Elema looked down at her Lareth. “I must leave now, slave,” said his Mistress. “I will be back once we have control of the ship.” She leaned down, getting close, and letting him look deep in her emerald eyes. “You can stay here and wank to the sounds of your Imperial friends getting beaten. What do you think of that, slave?”

Trembling, so desperate to cum but knowing he could not, Lareth gasped as he shouted, “Nineteen! Nnghhh… nineteen… Mistress…”

“Thought so,” she said, and turned and departed the room.

Lareth was alone, wanking on his knees, as he heard the chaos unfold. Elema spoke over the ship-wide com using his authority codes, and then he heard a stun blast go off outside as his Mistress shot his guard. In the distance, he could hear more signs of violence. It was happening! He was betraying the Empire completely, willingly letting aliens harm Imperial personnel and steal an Imperial ship!

This was the height of treason! This was the greatest crime a Governor of the Empire could commit!

And he did it all for his Mistress Elema. He had completely destroyed his entire life… for her.

Lareth knew he would never again be this sexually excited or turned on in his life! Fapping faster, moaning ever louder with painfully pleasurable denial, he tried to savour this, the ultimate submissive high, for as long as he could! He was going insane, and he loved it!

Eventually, Elema and several Twi’leks entered the room. Triumphant, all of them without their slave collars, his Mistress announced, “we have won. The ship is ours!”

“Yes… ngghh… Mistress…” he said, and the five women laughed.

“Now,” said Elema, pulling a chair over to him and sitting down in it, “your final reward. Gather around, ladies, and witness the pathetic display that the Governor has just sacrificed everything for!”

She slowly removed her shoes, and Lareth stared as she took her time in raising her bare feet to his face. When her smooth arches and delicate toes touched his face, he inhaled deeply, and swooned as her scent filled his mind. “Oh yes…” he moaned, closing his eyes. They had never smelled this good! This was amazing!

“Now, my pathetic slave,” said his Mistress softly. “You… may… wank!”

His hands, which had not left his tiny cock, sped up. Lareth tried to go slow, tried to savour it, but he was not able to hold off for too long. Breathing deeply, sucking on her gorgeous green toes, he revelled in every jerk, as his whole body cryied out in pleasure.

Around him, the other former-slaves mocked him, either knowingly or unknowingly driving him to new heights of humiliation and ecstasy. “Wanker!” “Loser!” “Hand-humping beta!” they called.

“Yes… yes, Mistress!” he stammered, as his body began to tingle. “Yes! Oh fuck yes!” he moaned, as he felt the sensation build. With one last deep inhalation of Elema’s magnificent feet, Lareth Belg screamed “Oh YEESSSSSS!” and exploded all over his hands, cumming and cumming as he fapped frantically, dragging out the sensation for as long as he could, as his mind was consumed by total, ecstatic oblivion!

It was the single greatest orgasm of Lareth’s entire life, and it was worth everything he had done!

\-----

Using Belg’s willingly-given access codes, Hera took control of the ship with ease. Shoving all the Imperials save the Governor into an escape pod, she simply let them go. Some of her fellow Twi’leks protested, wanting revenge, but Hera did not execute prisoners. That was the Empire’s way, not the Rebellion’s.

Well, she did allow herself one small act of revenge. Before letting the Imperials go, Hera pulled aside Crispin for a private chat. She made sure to tell him, in a voice loud enough to be ‘accidently’ overheard by the others, just how much the Rebellion thanked him for his service. Confused, they then put him in among his scowling, suspicious fellows, and shot the Imperials into space.

Charting a new course, they jumped the yacht to the Ring of Kafrene, where some shady dealers gave Hera and her fellow escapees a fair price for the stolen vessel. The Twi’leks used the money to purchase some proper attire, and passage for wherever they wanted to go. Hera was able to meet a Rebel contact at the trade post, and soon she, and her high-value prisoner, were on their way back to the hidden base on Atollon.

The rest of the Spectres were glad to see their leader’s return, and Hera was glad to reunite with her crew. It was especially good to see Kanan again, the tall Jedi with the short ponytail who was her heart.

Two days later, Hera descended into the lower levels of the base, dressed once more in her comfortable pilot fatigues, a bag slung over her shoulder. After a routine search at a security checkpoint, she passed through a doorway and into the Rebel base’s prison section.

Shimmering force fields sealed the entrances to the cells that lined the corridor, and she walked along them, seeking one prisoner in particular. Finding him, Hera stopped and gestured to a guard nearby, who lowered the field long enough for her to enter.

The small room was bland and featureless, with a single security camera on the ceiling. Lareth Belg lay on a bench along the far wall, dressed in a bland grey prisoner uniform. He sat up as soon as he saw the Twi’lek approach, surprised at her presence.

“Hey,” said Hera, feeling a little awkward.

“Er… hey,” said the former Governor of Kalinda, looking at her with confusion. “I… I didn’t expect to get a visitor.” He frowned. “Unless you’re here to ask me questions about the Empire?”

“Oh no,” said the other quickly, “nothing like that. Besides, I hear that you’ve been very cooperative, offering lots of valuable Intel.”

“You won, I lost. To the victor go the spoils,” he said lightly.

“About that,” said Hera, stepping a little closer. “I just… I just wanted to say sorry, I guess. For manipulating you the way I did.”

The human smiled. “No need. It’s fine, really. The Empire and the Rebellion are enemies, and what you did…” He shrugged. “Exploiting a weakness is just how the game is played.”

“I suppose,” she said, still feeling guilty. “Look, I don’t quite understand the last couple of weeks, and I don’t suppose I ever will. But this morning I was going through my stuff, and, well, I saw these…” she said, and reached into the bag at her side. Within were a pair of very old and very used boots.

Lareth stared. “I don’t understand…”

“I was going to throw them out,” said Hera, “but then I thought of you, stuck down here, alone, and… well, I thought you should have them,” said the Twi’lek, and handed them over to the stunned prisoner.

He took them, and could not resist sticking his nose in one and taking a quick breath. Oh fuck yes! They smelled amazing! “Thank you!” said the Imperial, genuinely grateful.

Hera smiled, a little embarrassed. “I thought you would appreciate them. However, I don’t think you can enjoy them and… you know, without being watched,” she said, gesturing to the camera above them. “But…”

“But we both know I’m too weak to resist, even with an audience,” said Belg with a tight smile. “Thank you again.”

Hera nodded in acknowledgement, and with nothing else to say, turned to leave. As she did so, the human asked, “wait! Tell me, Elema. Will I ever see you again?”

“No,” said the Twi’lek simply, stepping through the force field as the guard outside lowered it for her. The red-tinged field went back up behind her, and she did not look back as she said, “and the name is Hera.” And then she headed off down the corridor, lost to his sight.

\-----

The sun of Atollon was high in the planet’s blue sky when Hera emerged from the prison and into the open air. Wanting to be alone, she needed a walk to clear her head, but was unsurprised when Kanan emerged from nearby and fell into step alongside her.

“You okay?” he asked, genuinely concerned. “Since you got back you’ve been… quiet.”

“I’m fine,” said Hera, wishing that were true. “I’ve just been through a lot. I… I want to find a way to tell you what happened.”

“Well, take your time,” said Kanan, supportive as ever. “When you find the words, I’ll listen.”

“Thanks,” said the Twi’lek. They walked together for a few minutes, silent, passing Rebels repairing ships and stocking supplies. Finally, Hera came to a halt and said, “I made friends with one of the other slaves.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah,” said Hera. “Her name was Elema. It was through her efforts that we were able to capture Governor Belg and free everyone. Her plan worked wonderfully.”

“Sounds like a clever person,” said the Jedi. “Think you’ll see her again? We could use someone like that in the Rebellion.”

“I doubt it,” said Hera. “I’m not sure Elema and I would even be friends outside of that situation. She’s… she’s just a very different person to me.”

THE END


End file.
